


in the house we see a light (that comes from what we feel inside)

by irishmizzy



Category: Modern Family
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishmizzy/pseuds/irishmizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's an old family tradition," Claire explains to the camera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the house we see a light (that comes from what we feel inside)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitlin (archetypically)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/gifts).



"It's an old family tradition," Claire explains to the camera. "When we were younger, Mitchell and I used to help our mom bake cookies every Christmas. And we thought this year it might be a fun thing to do as a whole family, like as a new tradition. A new version of the old one. So everyone's coming over this afternoon and we're going to bake."

"Little help," Phil calls from the kitchen. "These bags are heavy, can I get a little --"

Claire winces at the familiar smack that comes with a carton of eggs hitting the floor.

"Honey? I'm just going to run back out to the store real quick!" Phil says. "Be right back."

"So," Claire says, forcing a smile. "It should be fun."

**

Okay, so dropping the eggs was not his finest moment, but it totally was for the best because turns out, Phil forgot tons of stuff when he went to the store the first time. Who knew there were two sides to Claire's grocery list?

"Little help," he says, walking into the house again. "Lots of eggs here, don't want to have to go back to the store. They're gonna think I live there, or I'm running a chicken farm."

"That doesn't even make sense, Dad," Alex says, reaching up to take a bag from him. "Why would you need eggs if you ran a chicken farm?"

"For... growing chickens," he says. "Duh."

Alex rolls her eyes. "There's more in the car," he tells her, pushing her towards the door just as Haley and Claire come screaming into the room.

"I don't understand why you're _ruining_ my _life_," Haley shouts, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Because I'm your mom and that's what I do," Claire says, exasperated.

"Hey, whoa, what's the problem here?" Phil asks. They both turn to glare at him and oh no, bad idea. "Is that the doorbell? I'll check," he says, running out of the room.

The doorbell rings for real just as he's trying to decide if it's best to run upstairs or somewhere else completely -- outside, maybe. Back to the store for more groceries.

"Oh thank God," Phil says when he opens the door for Cam and Mitchell and Lily. "Hi, Lily! Aren't you all dressed up."

"Thank you, Uncle Phil," Cam says, bouncing Lily on his hip. To Mitchell he says, "See? _Someone_ \--"

"Don't," Mitchell says, brushing past them and into the house as Phil reaches out to tweak Lily's Santa hat.

**

"He even has a baby-sized beard," Mitchell says to Claire, grimacing. She laughs and takes a break from lining up ingredients to look out the window where Cam and Phil are corralling all the kids. It looks like they're playing some sort of tag. Mitchell's pretty sure Lily's it, judging from the way Cam's swinging her through the air, chasing after Luke and Alex. Even Haley's laughing, shooting at everyone with a Nerf gun. Hmm, maybe _she's_ the one who's it.

"You have to admit, she looks pretty cute," Claire says. The end of Lily's hat is trailing behind her, buoyed by the air. She does look cute. Dammit.

"A _beard_, Claire. And then he called me a grinch because I wouldn't let him put a beard on our daughter." She just laughs and mutters something about how he'll miss it when she's older. Some sister she is. It was a baby-sized beard! Why is he the only one who sees the horrible in that?

Whatever. At least he won that argument. By dropping the beard into a sink of soapy water, but that's neither here nor there. He'll go to his grave claiming it was an accident, though, that's for damn sure.

"So when're we starting?" he asks Claire, tying an apron around his waist. He ignores the oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-you're-actually-wearing-that raised-eyebrows look Claire gives him. It's the same one she's been giving him since they were kids. In fact, he's pretty sure older sisters are taught that look while their moms are in the hospital giving birth or something.

"What?" he says, even though he knows exactly what. Please. If he doesn't wear the apron, he'll just ruin his clothes, and with all the nieces and nephews and Phils about to be set loose in the kitchen, it's better to be prepared.

"Nothing," Claire says, shaking her head and smirking like she's trying not to laugh. "Uh, we're starting as soon as Manny gets here."

"What, no Dad?" It's feigned surprise, and Claire knows it.

She rolls her eyes as she says, "Oh, he and Gloria had 'something to do.' But they'll be by later, he promised. To help decorate."

Mitchell chuckles. "Yeah, you mean eat the warm cookies and tell us they could've used more --" he waves his hand like their dad used to when he was criticizing their Christmas cookies when they were kids. Claire laughs and leans into him, briefly resting her head on his shoulder.

"That's exactly what I mean." When the doorbell rings, she shoves him towards the back door. "That must be Manny. I'll let him in, you go rally the troops."

"Why do _I_ have to?" he whines, but she's already gone and he was only protesting for effect, anyway. He pushes open the door and braces himself for Nerf-dart impact.

**

"Haley, wash your hands," is the first thing Mom says after Uncle Mitchell calls them all inside, because she can't go five seconds without breathing down Haley's neck. Oh my god, how dumb does she think she is? Like she'd really touch a bunch of food after she was outside in the grass and everything. She's not Luke, for crying out loud.

And just like that the good mood she'd worked herself into playing Nerf tag is gone, completely. Trust Mom to ruin like, everything ever.

Then, to top it all off, she doesn't even get five minutes of peace because before she's even finished washing her hands Luke's banging on the door, yelling about how he's gotta goooo, like a) there are other bathrooms in this house and b) ew. So Haley doesn't even get a chance to respond to Dylan's text about her plans for today, if maybe she wants to come over to hang for a while. Yeah, like that'll happen. Mom's never gonna let her leave. There's really only one option here, and ugh, it sucks but... But it beats being stuck here alone. She guesses.

"Haley, let your brother use the bathroom, please," Dad yells. She sighs, frustrated, and swings open the door and almost gets hit in the face by Luke's flailing limbs.

"There's other bathrooms, moron," she says, but he doesn't even hear her. She pulls out her phone and is busy typing a message to Dylan when she gets to the kitchen.

"You can help me sift the flour, Haley," Manny says, waving his whole arm over the bowl like that lady who touches all the letters in _Wheel of Fortune_.

"I'm good," she says.

_stuk bakin xmas cookies w my fam_ she sends to Dylan.

_awes_ he sends back, almost immediately.

"Sweetie, can you measure the sugar? Or do you want to slice the sugar cookies?" Mom asks.

"Whatever," Haley says, distracted. "Can Dylan come over and help?" She knows Mom and Dad are doing that thing where they have a wordless conversation that they think nobody can see. Mom's like, _really_ stupid if she thinks nobody can see those faces she's making, though. "Here," Haley adds, because she knows from experience that being pleasant will probably (hopefully, maybe) help her situation, "I'll measure the sugar."

Dad shrugs and Mom sighs a little, quietly. "If Dylan wants to, he can come. But make sure he knows he's gonna have to help."

Haley stops packing brown sugar into a measuring cup to text _u cn come hlp f u wnt_.

_k_ he sends back. Haley smiles at nothing in particular and pockets her phone.

"Why don't you just marry him already," Alex says under her breath.

"Why don't you shut up," she says back.

"Haley," Dad warns.

"Sorry," she says to Alex, who shrugs, no big deal. It's the same thing every day. Mom and Dad just don't understand.

Whatever.

Haley waves at Lily, who's bouncing on Uncle Cam's lap. He waves her chubby arm back for her. Haley smiles and licks flecks of sugar off her knuckles.

**

"Oh, that?" Cam looks over his shoulder into the kitchen, where Phil and Claire are trying to get their kids to join in on the chorus of Rudolph. Manny's the only one really into it. Luke's too focused on unwrapping the kisses for the peanut butter blossoms; Mitchell and Alex have their heads bent together, discussing a plan of attack on a sheet of gingerbread; Haley's busy being fifteen, packing brown sugar with one hand while texting with the other. Claire bops Lily's nose as she sings and Cam smiles fondly before he turns back to the camera.

"My family didn't do this sort of thing. I mean, I love Christmas as much as the next person, but my parents were into the low-key celebrations and frankly, I always felt a little gypped growing up. Like when I heard some kids got to open a gift on Christmas Eve? Blew my mind." He swirls his hand vaguely next to his head. "The lucky bas -- ducks."

He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. Maybe he should take this one-on-one in a different direction.

"It used to be just me and Mitchell and some classic movies and good wine. But now --" he sighs happily -- "Now it's Lily's first Christmas and I -- _we_ \-- want her to have Christmas Eve presents and jingle bells and all the stops pulled out. And that means trading _An Affair to Remember_ for _Rudolph_, whether Mitchell likes it or not."

"For the record, I don't," Mitchell says, suddenly in the background of the shot.

"He's not a big fan of change," Cameron says without turning around. "He's working through it."

**

"It's not that I don't like change," Mitchell tells the cameras, barely thirty seconds after Cameron's interview ended. Pretty much as soon as Cam had left the room. "It's just... I liked the way things were, you know? And Lily's not going to remember this year, so."

He takes a minute, trying to figure out the right way to say it.

"I guess -- I guess I thought we had more time? To transition from our traditions to the new ones. I don't know."

Behind him he hears Cameron gasp softly. Crap. He didn't know he was listening. He tries not to blush, but it's futile, especially when Cam's sitting on the couch next to him.

"I'm sorry I called you a grinch," he says, his hand coming up to rest on Mitchell's shoulder. "I got so wrapped up in the --" He trails off, making a face. "Well, you know. Maybe later we can watch something? After Lily falls asleep and Santa gets his work taken care of? There's gotta be a bottle of wine somewhere."

"I hope so," Mitchell says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Santa's going to need something to get him through the night."

Cam laughs and Mitchell's vaguely aware of the crew chuckling too, but mostly he's focused on Cam right now, his hand warm on the nape of Mitchell's neck, comforting and familiar.

**

"Come on, pal!" Dad cheers. He puts his hand on the back of Luke's neck and squeezes a little, which just makes everything worse. Dad must not notice or something, because he keeps shaking Luke by the back of his neck and singing "Frosty the Snowman" pretty loud.

"Dad, I don't wanna."

"But it's Christmas! Come on, buddy, you love Christmas!"

That's true, he does. He's working up the energy to sing along, rolling stomach and all, when Mom stops right next to him.

"Luke, I thought you were going to unwrap the kisses," she says.

"I did!" He points to the shiny pile of wrappers to his left. She looks at it. Her eyes get a lot smaller when she looks to the other pile, the one of kisses. The wrappers pile is like six billion times bigger than the chocolate one.

"Buddy, where'd all the kisses go?" Dad asks.

Luke makes a face because, duh, he ate them. Where _else_ would they have gone? Except when he tilts his head backwards so Dad can see his duh-face his head does this weird swirling thing like whenever he lets Alex spin him on the tire swing for too long. Then his stomach does the swirling thing, too. Gross.

"Luke!"

Aww, man, and now Mom's using that voice like the time he tried to make a smoothie for breakfast. It's not his fault that orange broke the blender -- isn't the point of a blender to chop things up?

"Sorry," Luke says. It comes out all moany and sick-sounding, so he sounds just like he feels.

Mom puts her hand on his forehead and then his cheek. "Phil," she says to Dad, moving her head around all weird.

"Come on, Luke, let's see if there's a good movie on, okay?"

Dad tugs him up and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Luke leans against him and lets him lead him toward the couch. It turns out _Elf_ is on, right at the part where Buddy's trying to find his way around New York, hopping across the street and running through the revolving doors, yelling.

"Oh, hey, look," Dad says, sitting down next to him. "It's your favorite part."

"You did it! Congratulations!" Buddy says to the people in the coffee shop, and Luke laughs. Dad does too, and he reaches over and rubs his hand on the top of Luke's head, in that way that makes Luke's stomach start to feel better. Like magic.

"Phil!" Mom yells from the kitchen.

"Just a minute!" Dad yells back, but even Luke knows that he doesn't really mean it. Not when they're both too busy laughing at Buddy eating the already-chewed gum and next he'll meet his real dad and then he'll ride on the escalator and that's Dad's favorite part, so. It'll be longer than a minute, definitely, but that's cool, because Luke doesn't really want him to leave.

**

"Face it, Mom," Alex says, "we've lost them both."

Mom takes one last look through the doorway to wear Dad and Luke are sitting side-by-side on the couch, laughing, and sighs. Then she turns back to the kitchen table, where Luke's left a mountain of Hershey's kisses wrappers and no kisses and Dad somehow managed to get flour and sugar everywhere but in the actual bowl, and says, "It's probably for the best."

Alex and Manny both nod. It totally is.

"Claire," Manny says, waving Mom over to help him with whatever it is he's making. Alex knows it's some traditional Colombian recipe but she kind of stopped listening when he started explaining it to everyone. It's weird that he's technically her uncle even though he's younger than she is and that he like, calls Mom by her first name and whatever. It gives her a headache, thinking about it.

"Haley, would you like to help knead the dough for the alfajores?" Manny asks, moving closer to where Haley's standing.

"No," she says, not even looking up from her own bowl of cookie dough. Manny, to his credit, shrugs like it's nothing and starts kneading the dough on his own. Alex has to give the kid credit -- he never takes anything too personally. He starts to tell Haley about the tradition behind the alfajores, how his mom taught him to make them, and her mom taught her, even though Haley's clearly not listening to a word he says. Oh well, he'll get the hint eventually, Alex figures. Maybe in like five years, but that's still eventually.

"Oh, hey, I love this song, turn it up!" Uncle Cam says all of a sudden, clapping his hands and pulling on Uncle Mitchell's sleeve. Haley mutters "oh thank God," and wipes her hands on a dishtowel before leaning over to turn up the stereo just in time for them all to hear the opening line of "All I Want For Christmas Is You." Uncle Cam practically leaps out of his seat with joy, grabbing a spatula to use as a microphone as he sings along.

Mom gets into it pretty fast too. As soon as Uncle Cam holds out his hand to her she's up and dancing. Alex and Haley share a look because oh my god, seriously? If other people were here this would be mortifying.

But other people aren't here, it's just them, so it's kind of funny. Actually, it's really funny. Alex starts to laugh; next to her, Haley's totally giggling too. They lose it for real -- bent over, stomach hurting, gasping for breath laughing -- when Dad runs into the room, sliding across the floor on his socked feet and playing a completely horrible (and inappropriate -- this song doesn't have a guitar solo) air guitar like he's in one of those Guitar Hero commercials. But he's flailing around, struggling to stay upright, and everyone's singing, and it's just so funny that they can't help it.

By the time the bridge comes around, everyone in the family's managed to grab a cooking utensil to use as a microphone and they're all spazzing out and laughing. Manny and Luke are standing on chairs (even though Luke's swaying a little slower than Manny, like he still doesn't feel great but he doesn't want to miss out on anything) and Uncle Cam's twirling Uncle Mitchell and Lily. Alex laughs when Dad leans in close, poking her gently, saying all he wants for Christmas is youuuuu, baaaa-by. It's chaos, but the good kind.

That's why when Grandpa and Gloria walk in it kind of surprises them all into rigidity, like they were caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing. Well, everyone except Uncle Cam, who dances himself right over to Grandpa and then spins him around effortlessly. It startles a laugh out of Grandpa and just like that they're all laughing and singing again. Even Grandpa joins in. It's pretty awesome.

Afterwards they all collapse, flushed and spent and happy.

"No one told me there was going to be a concert," Gloria says, clapping.

"It was impromptu," Manny tells her.

Luke leans close to Alex so he can whisper, "What's that mean?"

For once she can't think of a lie, so she says, "Spur of the moment," and he nods. It'll be her good deed for the day, she figures. Besides, this morning she convinced him and Haley that "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" was really called "Hark! The Bare-Lipped Angels Sing," and that it was about all the angels who don't have mustaches. So. Even without a second lie today's already been a pretty huge success.

"Look what I made," Manny says, pulling Gloria and Grandpa toward the part of the table where all his cookie dough is.

"What the heck is that?" Grandpa asks, poking it like it's a dead animal or something.

Manny doesn't hear him, though, because Gloria's hugging him close and saying, "Ay, mi cocinero!" right in his ear while he grins.

**

"Sí, alfajores," Gloria says, exaggerating the pronunciation for the camera. "In my family they are a Christmastime tradition." She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts, and then says, "In my country, cooking was the best way to bring a family together, to show how much love we had for each other. Especially at Christmas. One time, my ex-husband? He accidentally set his grandmother on fire."

She pauses and makes a face, and then smiles.

"Nobody's done that today." Her smile wavers the tiniest bit. "Right?"

**

Haley's hot grandma answers the door when Dylan rings the doorbell.

"Hi, Mrs. --" he starts to say, but then he's all squished up against her in a hug and it's awesome but weird at the same time.

"Thanks, Gloria," Haley says, appearing behind her and tugging Dylan free, thank god. When she kisses him hello she smells like cookies. It's amazing.

"You smell amazing," he says, his voice low so her grandma doesn't hear. Haley blushes and giggles and kisses him again, until her mom clears her throat. "Hey, Mrs. Dunphy. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dylan. So you came to help with the cookies?"

"Mom," Haley hisses, at the same time as Dylan says, "Totally."

He follows Mrs. Dunphy into the kitchen and sits next to Haley's funny cousin at the table. "So what do you want me to do?" he asks, while Haley sits down at his other side.

"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to," Haley says. He shrugs -- baking cookies is totally fun. Like, who doesn't love to eat cookie dough and frosting? This beats sitting at home and watching the news like his boring parents were doing.

"Snowmen or Christmas trees, it's your pick." Mr. Dunphy holds up two cans of frosting, one white and one green.

"Dude, trees." Dylan reaches for the green frosting and then for those crazy multi-colored candies that are like extra-tiny M&amp;Ms. They can be the ornaments.

"Alfajor?" Haley's cousin says, holding out a plate of coconut-covered things. Dylan assumes they're cookies. They sort of look like snowballs, which is pretty cool.

"Sure." He shrugs and takes one, popping the whole thing into his mouth. It's okay. Could use more chocolate, but whatever. "Pretty good," he says, giving the kid a thumbs up.

The kid smiles and goes back to covering more cookies in shaved coconut. Dylan swallows his cookie and turns to Haley. "Are you prepared to make the best Christmas tree cookies this world has ever seen?"

She leans into him when she laughs, pressing her face against his shoulder.

"I'm serious," he says, and she sits up, pressing her lips together to stop from giggling. It takes her a minute and then she nods, finally serious.

"Let's do this," she says.

He holds out his hand, palm up. "Knife," he says, like a surgeon asking for a scalpel. Haley hands it to him. "Frosting." Haley holds up the can. Dylan digs the knife in and spreads it onto the first tree, nice and smooth.

**

Manny watches Haley and Dylan lean over the table with their heads bent close together. He won't lie, it stings a little. He can feel Jay's gaze on him from across the room and he refuses to look up. He can't fight this feeling, it's a classic story. Jay's just going to have to accept that.

Eventually he tears his gaze away from Dylan and Haley and the stupid Christmas tree assembly line set up they've got going. His cookies aren't going to finish themselves, and sharing them with the family is more important than unrequited love. He picks up his wooden spoon and gives the arequipe a quick stir before spreading a bit onto a pair of cookies.

Claire leans over him and sets down a freshly filled bowl of coconut. "They look delicious," she says, her hand light on Manny's back.

"Thanks, Claire," he says, smiling up at her. It's nice to have his hard work appreciated.

**

Phil grabs a tray of cookies off the counter, but it's the one fresh out of the oven instead of the cool one. "Hot! Ouch! Hot hot hot son of a biii -- "

"Hey! Little pitchers," Jay warns, cupping his hands over Lily's ears.

"-- cycle maker!" Phil drops the tray pretty quickly, somehow managing not to spill cookies everywhere, but obviously not quickly enough. Claire takes him by the wrist and holds his hand under the faucet, shushing him.

"You're fine," she says, looking at his palm. "He's fine."

"Takin' it like a champ there, buddy," Jay says. He bounces Lily on his knee and she laughs, that belly laugh that gets him right where he lives. He could listen to that laugh every day for the rest of his life and never be sad again. He bounces her again, just to hear it once more.

"I'm just saying, I cannot in good conscience, root for Iowa," Cameron says.

"So you're a Georgia Tech fan," Jay says, shifting his grip on Lily so he can reach for his beer.

Cam looks up from the cookie he's busy decorating in blue and orange. "No," he says seriously. "I'm just a fan of anyone who's playing Iowa."

Jay laughs and reaches for another cookie -- one of those weird ones Manny made, with the coconut and the weird stuff in the middle. While he's reaching, Luke sneaks in and tucks himself against his side, practically on the same chair.

"You want one?" Jay offers, pulling the plate a little closer. Luke shakes his head and leans a little heavier into his side, so that Jay has to put his arm around him. He raises his eyebrows; across the kitchen, Claire shrugs it off.

"Too many kisses before," Alex whispers conspiratorially. Jay nods in understanding as he pops a cookie into his mouth. Huh. Not bad.

"Hey, these aren't too bad," he says to Manny, reaching for another. Manny grins as Gloria hugs him with one arm. She grins at Jay too, like he's saying it to be nice or something. He's not -- he wouldn't have said it if they were crap. They're not, though. They're really good.

"I know, right?" Haley's boyfriend says, snagging a cookie for himself. "They're awesome, dude. Totally the best ones here."

"I think we have a winner," Phil adds, clapping Manny on the shoulders. He looks a little pained when he does it, like maybe the burn wasn't as minor as Claire was saying. Or maybe Phil's a giant baby. It could go either way.

"I didn't even know it was a competition," Manny says, beaming. "What do I win?"

"Nothing. Pride," Jay says. What does he expect, a friggin' trophy? For baking the best cookies out of the family? When he was up against the likes of Luke's unfinished peanut butter things? Come on.

"He is right," Gloria says, squeezing Manny's cheeks. "Pride, mi amor, that is what you win."

"Sure, pride," Mitchell says, and Jay doesn't have to turn around to know he's rolling his eyes. "And this."

He sets an elaborate gingerbread man on the table -- it's dressed to look like him, with that stupid poncho and flute he wore for what felt like forever, and holding an epee. Manny's eyes grow wide as everyone oohs and ahhs over it. Even Lily gets into it, banging her hands against the table excitedly.

"That's really great, Mitchell," Jay says. "Did you do that whole thing?"

He shrugs. "Claire helped a little. And Alex."

Jay suspects there's a gingerbread man decorated for each of the kids somewhere in this kitchen, but hey, why ruin Manny's fun? It's Christmas, right?

"I love it," Manny says. "I'm going to keep it forever."

"The first sign of ants and it goes right in the garbage," Jay says. Manny pouts a little and everyone else boos, like he's being a real jerk because he doesn't want to deal with a gingerbread-caused infestation. Lily laughs, though, that big belly laugh again, and wiggles happily against his lap.

"See, at least someone agrees with me," he says, adjusting the Santa hat on her head and turning her around to face him. "You and me against them all, kid. We'll take 'em down one by one."

Lily grabs for his noise, babbling happily. Jay blows a raspberry at her and she laughs, her chubby fingers digging into his skin.

It's quiet for another beat, and then everyone in the room starts in at once, all, "Yeah, that's never gonna happen," and, "Fat chance, Dad," and a whole chorus of nay-saying that he ignores.


End file.
